Space

[saberforce]

((Sorry for in essence the double post, but I am seeing if I have access to the RP.))

 

Holden found himself alone in the captains quarters. Feeling unsure of what he should do, he sat very still on the bed and just stared at the door, hoping that it would will his dad back. To Holden's surprise, after to what seemed like an hour to him, his dad walked back into the room. Holden put on his best boyish smile as his dad walked towards him.

 

"I'm glad to see you're up."

 

Holden was about to make a reply when he felt a lurch in the ship. His dad had told him that because it was an old ship, it would make funny sounds, and Holden recognized that one.

 

"We're moving again?" His dad gave him a regretful look before he responded. "Yes bud, we need to find a crew that's a bit more...independent then this droid crew that we have." Holden paused for a moment to think about what his dad said. "Am I m-da-pen-ant?" His dad let out some sort of noise that Holden did not catch. "Yes buddy, you are." Holden looked out at the view port to see the stars flash by. Slowly a disappointed look came to his face. "Don't worry bud, soon we will arrive at our next destination." Holden looked at his dad and put on his half smile before he return his gaze to the stars.

[saberforce]

Space; Onboard Corellian Pride:

 

Tros paced within his own private quarters. It was a ritual for him during space travel. He was unable to sit still or find sleep. Within his own mind, he could pull close to a thousand reasons why, none of which would ever be considered valid. Luckily, the ride from Corellia to Coruscant was a short one. Deciding that his time within his quarters were useless to him, he grabbed his jacket and left them. Making his way to the galley for a snack or perhaps a very strong drink. Most of his crew were asleep, minus for his pilot, so he was able to help himself and remain in thought. Pouring himself a small glass of Corellian Merlot, he sat down in one of his chairs. Surprisingly, the chairs was very comfortable. But then again, he wouldn't skimp on anything for his own comfort.

 

I'm in for a big up hill battle. These new fuel sources that were reported would cost the Galatic Alliance billions of credits, but how do I get them to see the pay off? Senator Balhann might be my target ally if I am to pull this off. His thoughts were instantly interrupted as the console nearest to him emitted the familiar sound, informing him that they were about to come up on Coruscant.

[saberforce]

Tros sat within the cockpit of the Orar as it moved quicker through space than a Jedi Order through Grandmasters. Tros took a moment to glance at the holonet feed that he had before him as it flashed up information of the Bounty Hunters Guild, the Jedi Order, The Sith, and whatever else the beroya thought would be helpful in in soon crowded hunt on Ossus. The information held much, yet even then it seemed that Tros was far more distracted with the very nature of Larkin and her movements within the bar on Coruscant. It seemed to Tros that there was an absence of her mind, almost as if she was not in control. Either way, the job she offered up was too simple with too many credits on the line for him not to take it. And for him to argue a point that might be moot anyways would be di'kutla. The fact that Tros even took the job was largely due to Chalchiir, a person that Tros was now guuror. With his buy'ce at his side, he scanned through the information once more before he closed his eyes, trying to conceptualize what may actually go down on Ossus. If he was not the only one looking for the datapad, he could be late in arriving, let alone to arrive when everyone else did. If that happened, Tros understood that skills in combat survival, the skill set that Larkin alluded to, would come into play....

[saberforce]

The shuttle moved through space rather quietly and anonymously towards it's destination. Tros sat in the main hold with his A280 blaster riffle and DL-44 heavy blaster pistol out as he was cleaning them. Every so often he would look up at the galaxy map for a short ponder, then return to his weapons. He also needed to clean his Beskar'gam and his buy'ce, but he was willing to wait for those two pieces. Priority would be his weapons for the dangerous mission they were about to embark fully upon. As he was cleaning, a piece of his A280 went flying through the air and landed upon the other side of the main hold.

 

"Shabuir!"

 

Tros put down the cleaning equipment and his his A280 and moved to pick up the piece. As he did, he spoke out loud to no one in particular.

 

"How long before we arrive…"

[saberforce]

Tros could do nothing but stare at the ship before him, Traitor's Hope. It seemed lifeless, yet still, ominous as if it would cary with it a great threat if one was to walk onto it without any remorse. The other ships that left Raxus Prime with him all began to move to board the Traitor's Hope. However, the beroya had to pause and watch. There was a strong sense deep within his own mind to make things simple and just target lock on the open airlock hatch and send a few proton torpedoes it's way and naastar the ship. The only thing stopping him was the thought of Xae-Lin, his vod that he had just met after months of searching for. For Tros, he knew that it would end up being very aay'han for him if he acted upon the thoughts running through his mind. It was a rare balac for him, and one that many would claim him to be weak for him not taking it. He held a strong skanah for both jetiise and darjetiise.

 

After a very long moment, Tros set up a link for Orar and his buy'ce. He needed a dajun for going in, and of course, another dajun, because ret'lini. For now, his choice would put tal'din as is priority. He spent too much time seeking her out to simply let her ash'amur because it would be easy for him to kyr'amur the one thing he skanah. So, he piloted his ship towards the airlock hatch that was left open for him to use, and began to prep his besbe'trayce for a akaanir. But Tros was not a utreekov. He made sure that his eyaytir was morut'yc. He would not be in a taap to be taken by surprise.

[saberforce]

Tros stalked very carefully and slowly near the ship that was adrift in space. It seemed like a good place that if it had been here for a long while, scrap hunters would come and pick it clean. But his vod and her friends were lucky. The ship was still intact. Granted, his own buy'ce was picking up no traps on his way towards his lenedat. He took a moment to look out the viewport to the other ship docked. It was a beautiful thing, and one that would be a great upgrade to his own. Using the link setup with the Orar, the Mando asked an inquiry to his A.I. on his ship.

 

"Lily... Send me details on the ship docked before us..."

 

Tros turned his attention back to the mission at hand and continued to stalk towards where he was supposed to be. His buy'ce began to pick up lifeforms on the H.U.D. and immediately began to scout out who was who. Since they would all be jetiise, they would most likely sense him somehow through their Force. He found that with them, boldness versus sneaking around was always the best option to take. But since he was still in his ship and not on a surface with them, sneaking was still his best front. He continued to scout near the other ship when Lily sent him details on the Ravenhammer. In his head, he thought about how nice it would be to have such a ship in his own possession. It was almost in a prime spot for his own blasting. A simple shoot of proton torpedoes near the airlock would send Ravenhammer afloat away from the Traitor's Hope. It wouldn't be ideal, since it would mean stranding his vod without a ship for sure. Plus, his scans were picking up life forms on the Ravenhammer. But still...

 

Tros began to prep his weapon systems and spying out a good target to hit...

[saberforce]

Tros felt a sudden tinge within his mind. He knew it was his vod. She must be able to sense him somehow. With a frown behind his buy'ce, he piloted his ship closer to the Ravenhammer and continued to scout out the ship. No matter what his vod thought of the plan, he held his own motivation. He knew that there was still another ship with a jetii on it out there somewhere. He didn't care. He was far more interested in the overarching goal for himself. Make credits. The rescue mission was not his thing. He only cared about finding out more about Xae. The rest, no. Jetiise did not concern him, nor their motivations and quests. This wasn't some hologame where side quests were apart of the plot. Carefully, he began to lock on the airlock of where the Ravenhammer sat resting...

[saberforce]

Tros was not a fan of the sudden communication coming his way. He felt like he was being pushed into a corner and left out of sorts. But there was something he had that the Jetii did not know the beroya held in his own corner. With a grin behind his buy'ce, Tros launched the torpedo bay. It was a blank one, full of rust and other things of the sorts. The rust had small pieces of tracking metal that only Lily his A.I. could track. It was worthless outside of five parsecs, but it was enough for one that would want another attempt to hunt a ship. And the Ravenhammer was too good of a ship to not track.

 

The rust of the launch would not be tracked, and no one would know that he even made the launch. So with his grin still on his face, he turned the Orar around and began to drift back away from the Traitor's Hope, to allow for the Ravenhammer to believe he was not making the attempt they thought he was making. He would make sure that such a memory would be stored within his own mind, so that the next time he saw the ship... He would gun for it fast.

[saberforce]

Tros sat in the cockpit of his fighter and just felt anger rise within him. He had been seated for a long while, and there seemed to be nothing going on. There was a sudden burst of movement, all of it was done rather quickly. Part of him wanted to lash out and just send two proton torpedoes in the general direction of the ships remaining, but then his buy'ce lit up. There was an incoming . It was Brexton, his vod who was all Tros had left. A friend who had become close with Clan Ardell. Hearing from Brexton always left Tros with aay'han in his heart. With some hesitation, the beroya opened the text based communication from Concord Dawn.

 

"Tros. Mand'alor has summoned the clan leaders. Riella was the clan leader for Ardell. Since you are the last Ardell, that makes you Clan Leader. Ret'urcye mhi"

 

Tros lowered his head as he thought over his options. There was limited choices, so he made the choice that made the most sense. He would follow the Resol'nare to the best of his abilities. He opened a frequency to the Traitor's Hope.

 

"This is Tros Ardell for Xae-Lin. We need to meet now, or I leave the system."

 

For Tros, time was now short. He had to meet his half sister, or he had to leave her. The chances of the two meeting again would be doubtful. But when duty called...

[saberforce]

Tros made a very obvious frown behind his buy'ce and the tone and emotion behind Xae-Lin. But she had made her choice, and it left the beroya with a clear choice of his on to honor and follow the Resol'nare. So he returned Xae a click response, and then abruptly shut his comm unit off, and then set his course for Manda'yaim. After a quick warmup from the nav computer, Tros had his ship heading towards Mand'alor and his call...

[saberforce]

There was an extremely loud clang that woke Tros from whatever small amount of sleep he was attempting to get on their way to Kessel. He turned to see Vrax sleeping in a seated position next to the storage unit. He was snoring rather loudly to the point of his own noise was drowning out the engines with their soft hum. As he sat up, Bex Krohl walked past him wearing nothing but the skin on his back as he was double fisting some form of whiskey he was unaware that they had on the ship. 

 

“I’m going to make clothing a requirement on this ship.” Tros didn’t look up as he said it, but instead rubbed his neck, which was now stiff. He looked around for his buy’ce, but remembered that he left it in the main cockpit. As he stood up, he was suddenly face to face with Bex; who looked completely confused. 

 

“I thought you were into men.” With an annoyed face to match the confused face of Bex, and also to openly show his own disappointment with the statement. “Not when they look like you.” Tros then left nothing to be discussed as he walked past him, muttering rather loudly- “We’re going to need a bigger ship.”

 

Walking into the cockpit, he spotted Vulios sitting in the copilots chair- staring blankly off out at the viewport. His own buy’ce was off and resting next to his own, and the blue light of hyperspace made the feeling in the cockpit feel much more relaxed then the main hold. Letting out a massive sigh, he sat down in the pilots chair and let his body sink in. Vulios didn’t move a muscle, but spoke. 

 

“A bigger ship might not solve the problems you’re running into al’verde. You need a fleet. But that depends entirely upon what our actual job is. You haven’t really told anyone yet.” Tros kept his own eyes on the console before him as he though more about what his response should actually be. The main job might steer some people away from his now small crew. But why was he afraid to lose the following he currently had? He couldn’t really say. Letting a moment pass, he finally turned his head and spoke quietly. 

 

“A competitor of Black Sun employed a group of smugglers to fetch Spice from Kessel. Word has it, they have been uncovered for also stealing Coaxium from the vaults on the side, which has put this competitor into an extreme disadvantage against Black Sun. So, our job is to teach this crew a lesson. Payment for delivering both the Spice and Coaxium to them on Savareen and teaching this crew a lesson is Thirty Five thousand credits.”

[saberforce]

Tros leaned back in his chair and allowed for his full weight to be tested in the strength of the chair. His own eyes darted out for a second to watch to star lines streak past the viewport as he mulled over Canderous’ comments on the situation. He didn’t need to actually see Vulios’ face either to catch from his peripheral vision a look that suggested he also felt the same way. Letting out a very loud sigh, he placed both of his hands on his stomach. 

 

“No. It’s not. But it is a starting point. And it’s work. Bounty groups normally don’t make a name for themselves that quickly. Nor do pirates. We have to start somewhere.”

 

His own eyes now looked to Canderous. In doing so, he also moved his head to gain better vision of the man. The clothe that covered his eyes stirred a sense of wonder within him, but decided to not ask such a question. He himself was a private man. Having to force someone else to talk about their past just seemed like a very rude thing to do. So instead he decided on a different direction. 

 

“So Canderous… I know you know much about Kad Ha’rangir. But what do you know of Hod Ha’ran?”

[saberforce]

Tros slowly nodded his own head in acknowledgement of Canderous. Luck was something that he himself was never found of actually acknowledging-despite having grown up for a good portion of his life on Corellia. It was interesting for him to see that Canderous only acknowledged- or maybe just worshiped – Kad Ha’rangir. It wasn’t really a bad thing, as at least he could tell that Canderous was a man of conviction and devotion. He felt slightly bad that he himself had started to have his own faith shake. Or rather, he began to doubt that there was even a god of his people anymore. 

 

There was a slight beep that took over for a second before Vulios turned it off and informed the other two occupants of the cockpit that they were about twenty-five minutes from drop point. At the word, Tros stood up and put his buy’ce on and looked at Canderous. 

 

“Alrighty then, let’s get the others prepared. It’s time we make our own luck and future.”

 

Before Tros left the cockpit, he placed his left hand upon the shoulder on Canderous and gave him a slight nod before moving on. Although he did not make it very far out of the cockpit before standing face to face with Vrax. 

 

“Fierfek Vrax! How the bloody hell can you do that.” Vrax gave a slight chuckle behind his own buy’ce. “Reach my age and you’ll understand.” With a slight tilt of the head to look around Vrax, he moved to allow for Tros to see the situation on the main hold of the Swift Justice. Bex was now fully clothed and armored up, along with the rest of the crew. They were all preparing their weapons for the mission and seemed to be focused on what was coming. Tros then felt the hand of Vrax upon his own shoulder as the older veteran guided him with a slight push forward. Tros understood what Vrax was nudging him to do. 

 

“We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace on the outskirts of the Maw within a few minutes. Our target is a Baleen-class heavy freighter named Mute Decree. It’s cargo of 12 crates of Spice must be retrieved unharmed, along with any Coaxium that they may have upon their ship. Word has it that there are at least 6 crew members, but there could be more, as the ship has been outfitted the house more. Upon collecting these materials, the Zann Consortium has requested two things. The first, that their ship be grounded indefinitely. Along with that, they requested that the crew make sure that they learn a lesson to never steal from the Zann Consortium again.”

 

Tros now looked around and eyed everyone. “If there are no questions, get ready to board the ship.”

[saberforce]

Amidst the darkness of space, two small vessels sat in wait, open comm channels between both ships. Tros stood in the cockpit of Pursuer-class frigate called Swift Justice. Alongside him stood Kot'dral and Gronn in the pilot's chair. It was his own personal ship, but at this point he almost rarely used it outside of taking groups of his clan into war zones. There was nothing but silence for the longest time until Kot'dral broke it. "No offense, but this is mirshepar'la." Turning his head to look at his better half, his own response was not quick enough to beat Kami, who was onboard the Trident, the YX-1980 transport next to Swift Justice. "Would you like to play a form of cu'bikad or get'shuk?" Gronn offered up a laugh at the suggestion on the comm. 

 

"No one said said this would be exciting. Remember, we're here to let Clan Larkin take both ships to Nar Shaddaa to retrieve the buy'ce of Terra, while we are meeting with Avao for the new ship to take to meet with the Sith."  His words ended the chatter. He didn't care for the back and forth banter. While he knew it helped increase the relationships between the new clans and old ones, it wasn't something that was needed at this moment. The silence though that followed for a moment was indeed awkward, even he had to admit. Luckily, Kami was always willing to break such awkwardness. "I heard Avao was going to let you name to new beauty... any ideas Mand'alor?"

 

He had to think for a moment. He wasn't sure at all. He felt like maybe he would know it when he saw it. But there was no guarantee that would even happen. After a very long pause, he lifted his head and looked at Kot'dral. "I'm not sure. I think I would need to see her before I could name her." "Well, here's your chance, she's coming in off your starboard side." Tros then turned his head, and he could in fact see her. The design of the ship was old, yet anyone could tell by looking at her that she was in fact new. Updated weapons and hull, along with a clearly visible white paint streak across her front. "Osi'kyr! That brings back some glory days type of tales..." Even as he finished saying it, the images of the old battles on holodisplay at Keldabe fashed heavily within his mind. The entire party was silent for a moment until the comms buzzed before receiving transmissions. 

 

"This is Crusader-class corvette Unnamed on approach. We have both Swift Justice and Trident on radar. How do you want us to pick you up? Old fashion style Mand'alor?" The voice belonged to Avao Skol. She was much softer spoken than all of those within Clan Vuuku, but she was the most shrewd of them all and the most blunt. If there ever was a reason to bring the power smith out of doing forging, one would be either grateful or in sheer terror of her, depending entirely on whether she was there to help or attack you. "We'll open the doors here for Kami and others to take over piloting Swift Justice. The rest of us will board old fashion style to you Avao." 

 

There was no other words offered, as Kot'dral immediately turned and got his mean ready for departure in the main hold. Tros went to follow, but Gronn almost punched him to get his attention. "Sir, I'd like to stay and pilot her... She's kind of become akin to me I feel." He looked at him for a second, almost bewildered. But then he slowly observed the whole cockpit of his own ship. He realized just now how much of it was altered slightly from when he first got it. He didn't alter any of it. Letting out a sigh that was held in, and one that almost sounded like defeat, he spoke quietly. "I guess she is more attuned to you right now than me. If you really feel that way, keep her in good condition. She is still mine after all..." Gronn gave a smile, the only one who didn't have his buy'ce on. "I'll do better than that. She'll be better by the time you fly in her again." Tros tilted his head as he slowly left the cockpit. He truly hadn't been piloting her since forging House Solus. Now that he was Mand'alor, he would most likely always be on a capital size ship versus on his baby girl. 

 

Walking out of the cockpit, the door shut behind him. Kot'dral signaled with his hands for him to seal his suit. He quickly did, just in time for the landing ramp to open, allowing the loud and sudden pull of the vacuum of space to fill the main hold. It took a good six seconds before Kot'dral went first, leading the others out of the Swift Justice and into space, where they would head for the main hold of the Crusader-class corvette. Tros was the last one out, only to barely miss Kami as she and another swooped into the main hold of Swift Justice. He gave her a quick salute as she did the same thing before he turned and followed the rest of the Zealots onboard the new ship. The movement in space was something he had done before, but it had been so long that it took a second to reposition himself to fully use the jetpack to get into the hangar. As he passed through the magnetic field, he shut down his jetpack, landing on the hard surface with a loud clanking sound. No sooner did he land that his ear picked up the transmission from Swift Justice and Trident that they were away. Unsealing his suit, he took off his buy'ce and addressed the Zealots. "Go and get familiar with the ship. Kot'dral and I will be on the bridge." He then used his head to signal to Kot'dral to follow him to the bridge. 

 

mirshepar'la : Boring

cu'bikad : Indoor game involving knives

get'shuk : A form of rugby

Osi'kyr : Strong exclamation of surprise

[saberforce]

Tros slowly walked the bridge of the ship, taking in every part of it. It felt like something he had been on before, yet could not place it as to when or where. For now, he simply just walked as Avao talked over the specifics of the Crusader-class corvette. Most of the features of the corvette had been only slightly updated shielding and weaponry. He didn't care for the output, he already knew it would perform beyond what it was supposed to. As Avao wrapped up, he found himself settling down into the command chair. Almost as soon as he did, something stirred within him. His eyes locked onto something in space that couldn't be seen. 

 

"Mand'alor? Where to?" The words came from Kot'dral. Tros didn't even need to turn to acknowledge him. "I have something brewing within my heart. The planet Ziost compels me to it." He now turned, but not to Kot'dral, but instead towards Avao. "Do we have it in our systems?" "We can find it if we don't." He then turned to face the blackness of space that before them. "Then I shall make this official voyage of the Revenant. Crew, we have our heading." Avao smiled at the official name of the ship she delivered to her Mand'alor. Tros felt it appropriate. ANd beside that, he could feel an excitement within his heart building. The Mandalorians of House Solus would soon arrive at Ziost, ready for whatever...

[saberforce]

Tros stood within the general mess hall of the Raven's Bane along with a few other of his trusted vod. Kot'dral, the leader of the Zealots amongst them. Sutu Skoss stood closer to Manda'lor the Zealous over any other though. His armor clad in red and silver, with his buy'ce adorned with the wolf eyes and the crest of House Solus upon his upper left chest. He leaned in and spoke in a hushed tone. "Why him?" Tros turned his head ever so slightly to look at Sutu before he turned back to looking out the viewport. The stars echoed to him, and spoke of many possibilities. As he stared, he took in a deep breath before he responded. 

 

"Mavanger is a warrior. One who has fought many battles and wars. The Sith have remained quiet for far too long. If we are to remained paired within this alliance... " He turned and looked at Kot'dral first before turning to Sutu. Outside of the man, the rest with him were the Zealot's under Kot'dral. Known for their lack of T-shape visors and beyond aggressive stances, they were the backbone of House Solus. They came with Kot'dral unless Tros ever asked them to remain behind. But since they only ever got deployed on missions critical to the House... and this was critical to the House. 

 

"... We need to place a leader on the throne who will not only help us grow as a culture, but will also be a strong ally." He now took a few steps away from the group to deeply stare out into the stars, using his own HUD to scan for the remains of the fallen warrior. "And Mavanger is that warrior. So we will be here and an aid to him in getting to the throne of the Sith."

[saberforce]

Tros turned and looked at the trooper who had approached. He felt like he had served with him before, or at the every least saw him frequently upon the battlefields fought with the Sith. With the hard salute, Kot'dral stood fully at the ready for whatever words the solider had for them. Upon getting the word that they had Mavanger, they group moved to the hangar as requested. 

 

Upon arrival, the group slowed down as they approached the shuttle. All seemed to hold a sense of weariness over the fact that the Sith would still be alive, on such an old ship of all things. Only Tros, Manda'lor the Zealous showed no signs of hesitancy and took off his buy'ce, tucking it under his arm as he squinted his eyes an some attempt so see more of what the shuttle could mean. He took a moment to look over at Captain Ralos, whom he did remember exactly interacting with her a few times. His eyes then darted over to the Fulgurmancer, to which he gave a sharp eye to. The gaze held no fear or worry, but more of a 'prove it' type look. At this point, Tros was risking his entire future on Mavanger's return. The Fulgurmancer would either prove him to be wise or a fool. Now was the time for it to come to light either way. 

[saberforce]

The sheer display before Tros was something beautiful. Not really the Force or its resurrecting power. But the grand sheer will of the warrior before him. The Fulgurmancer weaved his power and then attempted to hold his own will against Mavanger's now restored self. His death came at no surprise to Manda'lor. As the warrior now wondered who else might challenge him, he could feel the rest of his vod tense up. A slightly head turn to acknowledge what he could feel from them, he then turned and withdrew his beskad within his only free hand that wasn't holding his buy'ce and held it up. 

 

As eyes drew upon him and the Zealot's tightened up, a smirk came to Tros' face as he now turned to lock eyes upon Mavanger. He let his full mind and emotions be open to the Sith before him. The only Sith he would now fully follow to any war and death. He then slammed the beskad into the ground point down, followed by a quick motion of him taking a knee. With pure conviction within his voice, and with full authority as Manda'lor, he spoke. "Mandalorians follow you."

[saberforce]

Tros stood, putting his beskad away, as it was no longer needed. He wasn't very good at using it anyways. A good old sniper riffle would suite him a whole lot better. It was a symbol, one that he knew his vod understood, and based upon the words he received from Mavanger, he understood the importance of the symbol as well. As orders were given rather matter of fact, he placed his own buy'ce back upon his head. As a warrior himself, he felt it was his way of relaxing with the Sith before him. He lifted his hand to signal for Sutu to remain with the Zealots, who had already taken a step back and fell into a more relaxed position, but not following. Kot'dral knew his place well. 

 

"Unfortunately the state isn't as you'd expect. When that Sith woman drew everyone to Ziost... there many remained, and disappeared. The silence and lack of movement was driving me insane. It's why when I found out there was a plan to find you and bring you back... I wanted to make sure of it's success. The Sith need you." Tros turned his head ever so slightly towards the hallway that the two were walking down instead of half looking at Mavanger. "There is no plan being executed. Not outside of my own. And I must admit that mine is very selfish, as it's only seeking to restore the power of the Mandalorians to be a great warrior race that owns Mandalore again." The words spoken out loud were something he didn't think would be spoken outside of his own warrior council. Yet, the state of the galaxy almost demanded that he make such a claim out loud. 

[saberforce]

Tros kept his own thoughts to himself at the inquire of Darth Calypso's whereabouts. He didn't know her personally, and she made zero effort to connect with the Mandalorians upon her taking the throne. While she made a huge display of power before the Sith gathered, she had not been seen since then. Or at least stayed well hidden from his own scouts and informants. For all he knew she could have been killed off by someone who was too afraid of the consequences of their actions and disappeared. The only thing he knew for certain, she had not been seen in a long while, and the Sith have fallen off the radar. As an ally, at least one had always assumed he was for the past 2 before Calypso, he would have assumed there would have been more contact to the major plan. Not just hiding away. 

 

The words utter by Mavanger next after he was silent upon the gap left in his absence took him a bit by surprise. He was flat out offered up the chance to be allies of a different sort. To be their own people, but to almost extend the kinship of vod from Mandalorian to Sith. The return favor seemed simple. Almost too simple. He wondered what sort of catch there would be to fully lock in such a strong alliance. Granted, neither side was all that strong currently. Scattered and divided on both ends. But upon merging and rebuilding, the two allies could become a deadly force upon the galaxy. If he turned down such an offer, he would be a fool, even if there was a catch to it all. 

 

"You have my word, House Solus and all Mandalorians who follow it's banner will aid you in this and be a trusted forearm to carry out this purpose. Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it." Tros knew that Mavanger may not know the exact words spoken at the end, but he knew that the warrior was smart enough to realize it was something important, and it was important for Manda'lor to seal the pact with the honorary words. Truth, honor and Vision were all things that seemed to be clearly laid out between the two. 

[saberforce]

Tros pondered for a moment as faces and names flashed within his mind. The only ones that he wondered of loyalty in fighting were Delta, whom he had reports was now living on Concord Dawn an as exile. Terra and most of her followers went into hiding after Nar Shaddaa. So in many of his own regards, there wasn't much in forms of resistances against him as far as he was aware. He slowly shook his head towards Mavanger. "No. The Mandalorians that follow will follow me to the death. Those that don't follow are either in exile or hiding, or haven't found their way in support of Manda'lor the Zealous." 

 

Turning to look back towards were the rest of his party that now awaited him to join them or get beckoned to join were his faithful crew. His team that would light the way if he was unable to do so. He then turned back to Mavanger. "Upon more victories, it will act like a lightening rod, drawing more to the cause."